‘Vaguely, but I’m not sure...’
‘And you told me yourself that the railway will run all the way from Glasgow to Greenock soon, so that there will be any number of people able to make the trip.’
‘Excursionists. Is that what you’re talking about?’
‘More than that.’ Ainsley smiled, excitement taking over from her nerves as she led him over to the table where she had laid everything out so carefully. ‘Welcome to Strone Bridge Castle Hotel,’ she said with a flourish.
Innes stared down at the plans, the drawings she and Mr Alexander had pulled together, the sketch she herself had made of the railway poster. He picked up the draft of the guidebook, leafing through it, and then the pages of costings she had so painstakingly worked on. ‘You did all this?’ he asked.
‘I should have told you,’ she said. ‘I know I ought to have consulted you, but I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You have.’ He wandered round the table, picking up papers and putting them down again, the frown deepening on his face. ‘Do you really believe people will pay to stay here?’
‘Innes, I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to spend the night here. I know you hate the place, but it’s a real castle, for goodness’ sake, with real turrets, and all these huge big rooms, and lots of pomp and splendour, and the views and— Yes, I really do think there would be any number of people willing to spend the night here. Or several. As you can see, I’ve even considered the possibility of leasing it out for weddings and the like. You can charge different prices, depending on which of the bedchambers people occupy, and more for the ones with ghosts in them.’
He was staring down at the railway poster. She had no idea what he was thinking. ‘I thought that Mhairi would be the perfect candidate to run the place,’ Ainsley continued. ‘I thought it was the sort of restitution that would appeal to you, to have her installed as a chatelaine here.’
Now he did smile, albeit fleetingly. ‘You were right about that. My father would be furious.’
‘More important, there isn’t anyone who could do a better job,’ Ainsley rushed on. ‘And there will be employment for any number of people here. Staff for the hotel, groundsmen. There’s room for about forty or fifty guests at least, I’d say. And then there will be the food that can be provided direct from the crofts, and the tweed to sell, and—and it will mean that people don’t have to emigrate to find a new life, Innes.’ She laced her hands together tightly. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done all this yourself.’
‘Not myself. Robert has been helping, though I’ve sworn him to secrecy, for I did not want anyone else to know before you.’ Still, Innes gave her no clue as to what he was thinking. ‘You’re worried it still won’t be enough,’ Ainsley rushed on. ‘I wondered that myself, and also I was thinking that even fifty well-paying guests would not turn enough profit to justify the renovations for several years—you can see the rough figures—very rough, I’m no expert. So I thought— Well, actually it would be better if I showed you.’
‘Showed me what?’
She led them through the Great Hall out into the atrium and produced the key that opened the hidden door. ‘Wait till you see. I’ve got it all thought out, I...’
‘Where are you going?’ Innes stopped dead in front of the doorway.
‘The tower. The view is magnificent, and it is easier to show you what I’m proposing from there.’
‘You’ve been up there?’ He had his hands dug deep into his pockets. ‘I told you not to go up there.’
He looked angry. ‘It’s perfectly safe, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ Ainsley said. ‘I had Mr Alexander look at it, and he said that it was structurally sound. I had him look over all of the castle, and in fact he said...’
‘I’m not interested in Robert’s opinion. I thought I’d made it very clear that this tower was off limits.’
‘No, you didn’t. You said the key was lost, and that it was unsafe, and since neither have proved to be the case—’ She broke off, at a loss to understand his reaction. ‘It’s the cottages,’ she said. ‘The tied cottages that have been empty for several years. I was thinking we could renovate them and let them out to families who cannot afford to holiday in the hotel, and who—’
‘Enough!’
Ainsley flinched at the fury in his voice. ‘What is wrong?’
‘I told you,’ Innes roared. ‘I said to you not to go up there.’
‘You didn’t. You’re being quite unreasonable. You said...’
‘Did you not ask yourself why the place was locked? For God’s sake, did not Mhairi say anything?’
‘Mhairi doesn’t know anything of what I’m doing. No one does, save Mr Alexander. I— It was meant to be a surprise. Is it because I didn’t tell you, Innes? Is that what’s wrong?’
He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes dark, his lips thinned. ‘My brother died by throwing himself from that tower, that’s what’s wrong, and that’s why all your plans must come to nothing.’
Innes turned the key in the lock of the hidden door, then detached it from the rest of the bunch and pocketed it. ‘I’m sorry for all the hard work you’ve put into this, but you’ve wasted your time,’ he said curtly before turning on his heel and walking away without a backward glance.
Innes did not return to the Home Farm until late that night, and he was gone for the rest of the next day. It was late and Ainsley had been lying wide awake for several hours, torn between fretting and anger, when she heard his footsteps in the corridor. They did not stop outside his room, but carried on to hers. She scrambled up in bed as the door was flung open. ‘You couldn’t leave it, could you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘This!’ He strode over to the bed, waving a piece of paper at her. ‘Don’t pretend it wasn’t your doing, for she mentions you herself, and even if she had not, I recognise some of your handiwork—or should I say Madame Hera’s! “Take the opportunity to put the past to rest.” That’s one of yours,’ Innes quoted, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘and then there’s “free to make a fresh start.” One thing hasn’t changed. Blanche’s letters leave no room for misinterpretation.’
‘Blanche?’ Ainsley repeated. ‘You mean Blanche wrote to you?’
‘At your behest.’
‘Yes, but— No, I thought she would write to me, but—Innes, what does she say?’
‘That fourteen years is enough time to realise that love should conquer all and it’s time we surrendered to the happiness Malcolm sacrificed himself to give us,’ he said mockingly. ‘Wouldn’t your Madame Hera just love it if she did? Isn’t that exactly what you hoped for when you interfered?’
His words were like whiplashes, deliberately and painfully cruel. The old Ainsley would have been intimidated, frightened, silent. The new Ainsley was hurt, but also furious. ‘I hoped that you’d take the opportunity to at least listen to whatever she had to say,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘What you call interfering was actually done through a genuine concern for your happiness, which, contrary to what you believe, I think you deserve. I hoped that you would credit me with actually caring about you, Innes, enough to risk meddling. Obviously I was wrong, and you are for reasons known only to yourself absolutely set on making the